


The safety net you bring

by Anonymous



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2001), Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Coming of Age, Found Families, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Genderqueer Character, Multi, Other, Porn With Plot, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, however chapter 1 is mostly pwp (see author's notes for further warnings)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 23:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Yuki is struggling with self identity.  Kyo very much is not.  It doesn’t take long for Yuki to realize that a collision of their lives is probably going to leave Yuki off for the better.  Doesn’t make the process any easier, though.[modern AU; gender fuckery AU; no curse AU; “are the Sohmas all related in this or not?” a question I never quite satisfactorily answer AU]





	The safety net you bring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long author’s note ahead! I’ll cut back going forward (and chapters may be shorter too...?) but I might as well be self indulgent from the start.
> 
> First off, Kyo’s username is a reference to his probable birthday (jan 1-20 1983, as he’s a capricorn and year of the pig) but if it turns out that’s wrong, then oops! I tried! More importantly, **_beware of possible spoilers for the manga when reading this_**. I don’t think there’s too much here, being a pretty liberal AU, but I’m never sure as a Fruits Basket oldie and I don’t want to accidentally spoil anyone because Fruits Basket meta and plot points and character arcs are tattooed onto my soul by this point -- so please tread carefully. I’ll mention and utilize lots of characters, including ones who show up in the mid to latter half of the manga, and that alone may be spoiler worthy to some!
> 
> When I say ‘gender fuckery’ I truly mean it -- characters’ gender identities and/or assigned at birth identities may vary wildly from canon. I wanted to explore femininity and write something celebrating being feminine and loving fellow feminine and feminine identifying people. Trans femininity and gender queerness (and the trans umbrella not being forcibly defined solely by dysphoria) all mean a lot to me. So here’s the product of that. I think a possible take on what we’re doing when we write rule 63 and genderbends and trans umbrella gender queer fics of a certain kind with certain identities is that we’re delving into femininity and what it means to us? That’s merely my theory, but I really just... wanted to write a love letter about all of that. Hope I’m making sense here, ha ha! **_tldr;_** femininity of all kinds is my jam, so I wrote something about it that only I wanted to read -- and that’s okay!
> 
> Anyway, I’m uncertain when I’ll update this, but whenever that ends up being do know that chapter 1 is probably the most sexually explicit part of this story as I envision it so far, and everything else is likely going to be way more tame. **_Further warnings for: massive amounts of self hate and internalized misogyny and transphobia ; questionable sexual outlets concerning that internalized self hate ; said sexual outlets containing intentional feminization, use of afab language between two amab parties, and unprotected anal sex._**
> 
> Ah, another important disclaimer I guess, taking stock of current fandom atmosphere: I unironically love Shigure, my bastard husband (whom, again, I love). Make do with that information as you will. Oh! And I honestly have no explanation for the ‘the Sohmas aren’t all related... or are they?’ thing. Some of them are definitely related... yet some of them aren’t. Don’t think too hard about it, I was just using characters in whatever way I needed to.
> 
> Okay, I’m done talking! Sorry for the rambling, but I hope someone somewhere out there enjoys this. Feel free to share any thoughts -- even a handful of words saying if you liked this would be highly appreciated -- and seriously could influence where this story goes! Your input matters to me ♡ so enjoy ♡♡♡

It felt mildly indecent, to be sitting here on Ritsu’s bed, doing this song and dance they did, only a few hours before -- well, a hook up. His first one. It’d been arranged weeks and weeks ago, so Ritsu inviting him over was pure happenstance. It still felt strange, and perhaps perverted. Not that Yuki didn’t already know he was a pervert. That was the only way to explain this old habit of his and Ritsu’s, really.

“I... hope this helps?” Ritsu’s tone, as always, was questioning, trying for unimposing. They were fidgeting, standing in the middle their own bedroom and wringing their hands, as if Yuki wasn’t the one imposing here.

Yuki stared down at the nondescript bag that Ritsu had packed all the clothes in. He felt both excited and frightened. That was the old usual too. _You shouldn’t want this, you shouldn’t feel like this helps anything_, rang ominously in his heart, as always.

He tried his best to ignore it. “Yeah, Ritsu, thanks. ...Sorry.” He always felt the need to apologize over this, and in these moments Yuki sort of understood Ritsu’s tendency to panic and throw out frantic platitudes over any and everything. Because what exactly was he apologizing for here? For imposing? For asking in the first place? Or for going the extra step and asking Ritsu to keep it a secret, that they lent clothes to Yuki? Clothes that originally had been given to Ritsu by Kagura. They were two years into this -- and Yuki still felt equally guilty yet unable to change a thing about this arrangement.

“It’s no problem!” Ritsu said, more assured than they usually said anything. Sure, there was sweat beading their upper lip, and there was a hint of a worried crease between their eyebrows, but Ritsu continued on steadily. “Really, Yuki, I’m here for you if you have questions or concerns.”

Yuki clenched nervous fingers around the handle of the bag, and hugged it close to him. As if that would protect this defenseless and strange little part of him from the world. Because this had to be a secret. From everyone. From the family. From his _mother_, especially.

“Yeah, I will,” Yuki said softly, not sure if he really meant it. Sure, they’d done this maybe five or six times now, Ritsu lending him clothes, but that didn’t mean Yuki was any further into figuring this out. Because even though technically Yuki _might_ be able to wear the clothes now that he had them, he also knew that he wouldn’t. Because he hadn’t thus far -- couldn’t, for the fear of what that would mean as some irreversible step he wouldn’t be able to take back.

But it was nice to dream. Having the clothes stashed away in a false back of of his wardrobe (that he’d installed himself, because it’d felt necessary and hadn’t been too difficult, considering how handy he was from all the do-it-yourself projects for his garden) -- it helped that dream feel more real. More possible. He didn’t dare, but maybe in a different life, as a different and better him, he would have.

Ritsu, maybe understanding it all a little too much -- and Yuki thought they were much braver than anyone ever gave them credit for, beneath all the anxiety and shouts of apologies -- smiled softly at him. Yuki tried to return it, though it felt wobbly and lopsided. He let himself out of Ritsu’s flat a bit later, bag in hand, heart feeling just as wobbly and lopsided as his smile had been.

* * *

Yuki was sweating, even though he knew he probably didn’t look it. He was very good at putting on a dispassionate poker face from years of experience. There was also a part of his brain scoffing, maybe laughing even, at how he couldn’t muster up the courage to put on a hand-me-down skirt from Kagura via Ritsu, but he could find a way to use a gay dating app to find his way to a niche chatroom full of people willing to hook up in increasingly odd and specific ways.

Yuki didn’t know if he was gay -- though Ayame was probably conviced he was after Yuki asked about the dating app and chatroom because... Well, it wasn’t like Ayame (and Shigure) weren’t infamously prone to oversharing about their wild antics, sexual and otherwise. Things of all sorts of nature _came up_, and sometimes Yuki was actually interested in what they had to say.

So who knew, if he was gay. All Yuki knew was this: there were things, buried and burning within him, that he craved for. Things that were easier to ask for from people who already knew they were a sexual minority. These things, they were so incredibly hard to put into words... and maybe that was why the physical was easier. Why arranging this kind of meet up was easier.

It hadn’t technically been easy -- this was the first time he was ever doing something like this and Yuki was terrified -- but it was something he was actually doing. He was seriously doing this. He’d gone home after Ritsu’s and shoved the bag into the false back of his wardrobe, taken a shower, then worked on a paper for his ethics class. Put on some unobtrusive but nice clothes, and lied to his mother that he had a study group and would crash at a classmate’s dorm on campus -- to which she had responded with minimal interest and general, if not flat, approval at his work ethic.

And now he was here, at the bar of a decent hotel, waiting for ‘martial artist_0183’ to show. They were going to head up to a room together. There’d been a set of rules and procedures they’d both demanded of each other, and the anonymity of a hotel had suited them both. ‘_i’ll tell you what to call me in person once we meet_,’ martial artist_0183 had said. ‘_you want me to start calling you a girl when we first meet or do i wait?’_

Even over chat, the terror that had struck Yuki’s heart at imagining -- in public -- where someone could _overhear_ \-- Immediately, he had very strictly replied with, ‘_What part of ‘only in private’ don’t you understand?’_ But it had been a knee jerk reaction, and Yuki felt the need to follow it up soon after with a more apologetic, ‘_Sorry, that was rude. I’d like you to wait until we start the scene in the room, please.’_

Luckily his hook up had been pretty easy going about it, simply replying with, ‘_nah, that makes sense, i got it’_. There’d been more correspondence. More details. A few jokes and what perhaps could be considered light flirting scattered in here and there. Yuki didn’t necessarily feel close to this anonymous stranger he didn’t know, but he felt like he had someone to help carry the burden of his twisted internal desires. It helped, feeling like he was sharing it and its load with someone else. So there was... something here. A potential for something. Yuki wasn’t sure precisely what, but knew that it was enough of a personal stake that he was nervous. So now, with the assigned day finally here, he merely waited and tried to stay calm, cold sweat beading his face.

He didn’t have to wait long: soon someone, early twenties with honestly gorgeous orange hair and intense eyes approached him. “You like gardening?” He asked, sidling up beside Yuki and feigning to look at the drink menu.

It was their agreed upon question to identify each other. Yuki glanced over at his -- what date? They were going to have sex, but it seemed like the most appropriate word for it -- and noticed he was wearing jeans and a red shirt. Casual. Laid back. He seemed, at first glance, like the kind of person who might be able to command attention from a room full of people if he wanted to.

“Gardening’s great,” Yuki remembered to respond, pushing away from the bar to openly look at his... date. “You should try homegrown leeks sometime.” That was the agreed upon confirmation answer.

Martial artist_0183 smiled at him. They were now officially off the script. What would he say, Yuki wondered. “Nice to meet you,” the guy said, chin lifting in greeting, a lilting smile gracing his mouth. “And for the record, I can’t stand leeks.”

Yuki hurried to stand as martial artist_0183 then turned away and began to walk away, holding up a card key in silent explanation that they already had a room. As Yuki went after him, he had half a mind to ask, ‘_well, why’d you make that part of my confirm phrase, then?’_ but it seemed innocuous and like it might invite negative feelings, so he didn’t.

Following after him, Yuki couldn’t help but notice that martial artist_0183 was... very, very good looking. Pretty, almost, Yuki might dare to say, watching him lead the way to the elevators, all svelte muscles, back a work of art, even under his shirt. He had perfect posture, probably from the presumed martial arts he took.

“Hey, you can call me Kyo,” he said during the elevator ride up, raking a hand through that beautiful orange hair of his, glancing at Yuki out the side of his eye. “Are you a pronouns kind of person?”

Yuki blinked, confused at what that was supposed to mean. “A pronouns kind of person?”

Kyo huffed a little and looked away. “Like, are you someone who rolls their eyes and cracks jokes when people say, ‘oh, my pronouns are XYZ’? Or are you down with actually listening?”

Yuki blinked again, and suppressed the urge to snort. Yuki literally was here tonight to have Kyo... well. Well, just, playing around with gendered terms was a big part of what was getting ready to happen. Why would he even have room to insult anyone about anything right now? “Is this your way of trying to tell me something?”

Kyo turned his head sharply to glare at Yuki, seeming more incensed than merely annoyed. “Are you gonna be a dick about this or not?”

Yuki held up his hands in defense, but only stared flatly in return, words locked in his chest for a moment. It was an old defense mechanism of his acting up, but that was more bad habit in the face of potential conflict than anything -- Kyo didn’t really scare him or give him bad vibes or anything. In fact, it was actually nice to be interacted with like he wasn’t so delicate and fragile that it was burdensome. That was how most of his family treated him.

As he thought of this, what it meant to have his words and worth questioned and dismissed over and over again, it highlighted how this particular unease from Kyo was the opposite of that -- Kyo was waiting expectantly if not angrily for an answer. What Yuki said in this moment mattered, and he felt like he could hold his own in a conversation like that. “I’m new to this,” he admitted slowly, searching for the right words carefully. “So I’m just _asking_. Also, I’m Yuki, in case you wanted to know my name at some point.”

Kyo’s glare turned into a suspicious squint, but there was no malice in it. Slowly he offered a stilted, “Sorry. Yuki, got it.”

Yuki shuffled his feet a little, and when Kyo didn’t continue the previous subject of pronouns, he asked, “You were saying something about...?” Yuki knew from experience that it was better to keep it vague and give people the chance to either return to sensitive topics or have a graceful exit option. He was trying to be gracious, knowing he would greatly appreciate the same courtesy in return.

It appeared Kyo picked up that, as he smiled lopsidedly and took up the chance to talk about it. He seemed like the outgoing type, brave and in your face when he wanted to be. Yuki liked that. “I switch between ‘they’ and ‘he’ a lot. But for you, you can just stick to ‘he’ during the scene tonight.”

Honestly, Yuki had more questions -- what did that even _mean_, really, and was Kyo like him or did that mean they were nothing alike, in the end? At least with Ritsu it was a constant ‘they’, a constant in-between -- and was Yuki like that? Or rather, _could_ he be like that, if he ever dredged up the courage to do so... which he wouldn’t, cowardly through and through --

But before Yuki could work out how to verbalize any of that, if it was really worth the try, the elevator dinged and opened on their floor, discouraging further conversation on the topic. So he kept quiet and merely followed Kyo out the elevator and to their room, murmuring graciously as Kyo let them in with the card key.

The room was nice -- this was a decent hotel, after all. Yuki approached the bed at Kyo stayed by the door and fiddled with the light panel, flipping each switch and checking the dimmer. Yuki wondered, setting his satchel bag down on the nearby desk, if he should take another shower before they started -- he’d been sweating, which was probably gross...

He hadn’t gotten time to start thinking about ways to point this out to Kyo without embarrassing himself, not beyond offering to Kyo if he wanted to take a shower himself and branching off from there, when he felt Kyo’s hand on his shoulder, grip firm. Yuki reined in the immediate tensing and urge to try and maneuver out his hold, and tried to turn around in a normal, calm sort of way.

Kyo must have realized the assertiveness of grabbing his shoulder, because he let his hand fall by the wayside, and twisted his mouth a little awkwardly, saying softly, “Sorry. Just wanted to ask you about going over the details.”

Yuki’s mouth went dry -- details meant hashing out, out loud, what filthy desires they were here to satisfy. But he could do this. He’d come this far already. So he cleared his throat and thought distantly about his policymaking project, the sources he’d tabbed so far, his last meeting with the professor and how they’d discussed using more case studies of failed policies to highlight the importance of following correct procedure and having a flexible plan with backups. 

This was an old tactic as well: if he multitasked, using the forefront of his brain to think about boring things, distracting it, he could feel less shame while letting the back of his brain be deviant and perverted and consider disgusting things like wanting to be called a girl while being fucked in the ass. This was precisely what he conveyed to Kyo, a review of months of messages and emails between them through proxy accounts, all simplified to its coarsest and simplest.

“You’ll call me a girl, and we’ll fuck,” Yuki said simply, voice as bland and stoic as he could possibly make it. His heart still skipped a beat, and something low in his stomach swooped and flipped in excitement.

Kyo didn’t look impressed, as he took a step back and appraised Yuki with a sigh. “That’s pretty general. Do you want me to slowly escalate it there? You mentioned before wanting it to be a little, uh, what was it? You wanted me shaming you, basically.”

_Condescending_, is what Yuki had typed out before. He couldn’t imagine it being loving and soft and for them both to lie to themselves and act like this was okay. That would hurt too much, during and then after, once he had to come back from it. “You choose,” Yuki said firmly, sitting on the bed with determination -- because if he didn’t commit, if they kept talking about this, he was going to chicken out. “I’m fine with you choosing. As long as -- as, yeah, it’s shaming. As long as you call me a girl.”

Kyo studied him more closely than before, not saying anything. Then he gripped at the hem of his shirt, clearly getting ready to take it off. “Does it have to specifically be ‘girl’ or do you want general feminizing? Want me to -- ”

Yuki was seriously going to lose his nerve. “Everything, all of it, any ways you can think of are okay,” he insisted. He couldn’t bear to say... to think... specifically what that meant. How to word that.

Kyo looked a little pained. “I... My dad likes to say, ‘if you can’t say it, you aren’t ready for it’, you know.”

Yuki rolled his eyes. Yeah, this would be his first time with another person, but he was a young adult, perfectly capable of making his own decisions, internal shame choking his words to death or not. “So you’re not going to do it after all, then?”

Kyo bared his teeth in a strange sort of half snarl. It was also strange in the way Yuki found it attractive. “No, against my probably better judgment, I’m gonna do it. Don’t worry,” he lifted his shirt finally, pulling it over his head, then winking at Yuki, hair tousled from partially disrobing. “I’m gonna make it good for you.”

Yuki would have said something snarky here normally, but he was entranced with what lay beneath Kyo’s shirt. Yeah, there was beautiful tan skin and those svelte muscles were on full display now. But Kyo also was wearing a fancy little bralette, golden yellow in color and made of delicately intricate lace. As far as Yuki could tell, it wasn’t supporting anything, wasn’t _doing_ anything, other than being worn by Kyo and looking enviably gorgeous.

And... well, what the hell? What the _fuck?_ What? _**What**?_

Kyo, totally oblivious to Yuki’s internal meltdown, folded up his shirt and dropped it on the desk. Then he unhooked the bralette, revealing smooth flat pecs and dusky brown nipples, and folded it up neatly too, to place on the desk next to his shirt. He got started on his pants, pausing briefly to tell Yuki, “You can get undressed too, if you want.”

Yuki jolted back into body. He was acting so casually... so this had to be a normal thing for Kyo, huh? Or something. Something that didn’t need questioning and explaining, not to some stranger who was just here to hook up with him. Yuki stared long enough to notice Kyo had on matching colored underwear -- boxer briefs and thankfully not lingerie bottoms or else Yuki might have lost his mind, to envy or confusion or _something_ \-- before staring down at his lap as he slowly undid the buttons of his shirt.

Yuki took longer to undress than Kyo, who inspected the hotel bed as Yuki stood to take off his pants and, finally, his underwear. When Yuki turned back to Kyo, completely bared, there Kyo stood: confident, hands on hips in his fully naked glory. “Ready?” Kyo asked.

Yuki, with one hand gripping at the opposite arm’s bicep self consciously, feeling pale and delicate compared to Kyo, nodded. It was too late to back down. And Yuki really, really wanted this. “Ready.” 

Kyo was on him, meshing their mouths together heatedly, before Yuki could even blink. “I’ll make this good,” Kyo promised again once they broke apart, before diving in immediately for another kiss. And Yuki believed him.

* * *

The next hour was a haze of heat and skin on skin and soft touching and prolonged kissing. For as depraved at Yuki had always imagined this, Kyo had a way of taking his time, making this slow and sweet. As slow and sweet as laying down together and kissing and licking into each other’s mouths could be, while Kyo also reached around Yuki and slowly fingered him open. His fingers moved with careful precision, stretching Yuki open with lube and patience, adding another finger and then another. If this whole experience was all brand new and frightening, then at least this was gradual and familiar to Yuki. Yuki was no stranger to feeling so full and trembling at the curl of fingertips inside him. It was different with someone else doing it, but not so different he couldn’t enjoy it.

Though why was this so fucking sweet? “I thought you were going to shame me,” Yuki mumbled as they broke apart, lips shiny and slick with spit, kiss-bruised red and swollen.

“Ah, finally, she speaks,” Kyo said back, voice a rumble in his chest, low and inviting. Yuki lost his breath a little, at the words themselves, but also at the way they were said, smug and richly deep. And -- _she_ speaks. God. That felt -- Yuki shuddered, and tried not to think about it, even though it was all he wanted right now. All he’d been wanting for so long.

“Shut up,” Yuki said, breathlessly, tipping back in for a kiss. But Kyo pulled away, and carefully worked his fingers out of Yuki. He groaned, feeling empty, but Kyo began to move them both around, which was distracting. Yuki went along with it, curiously pliant -- because what could be next?

Apparently it was Yuki on his back, legs spread so Kyo could settle between them, smiling jauntily. Yuki didn’t know where this was going, beyond Kyo’s eyes roving over every inch of his naked body, which made him uncomfortable. His naked body was -- was something Yuki didn’t always know how to grapple with. How to feel about. He was turning red, blushing at the intense way Kyo was looking at him. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” Kyo said lightly, still just hovering, not touching, not doing anything but enjoying the view apparently. “Just think you’re real pretty.”

Yuki blushed more, eyebrows furrowing, because -- well, that actually wasn’t new, people calling him pretty. Saying maybe he was too pretty, even, for his own good. There was a double-edged sword of him both liking and hating that compliment growing up. “Stop looking at me,” Yuki mumbled, eyes glancing away.

Kyo made a noise of dissent. “But pretty boy -- "

At this, Yuki flat out glared, because _that_ had always been an insult, and Yuki knew how to handle his feelings on _those_. But Kyo merely raised a questioning eyebrow. And, staying perfectly in-scene, he said, "Oh, you don’t like that? Should I say pretty girl, instead?"

...Fuck. _Fuck_, if this wasn’t exactly what Yuki had wanted, arranging to meet with Kyo to begin with. Yuki moaned miserably, and didn't reject it. No surprises there; they both knew he wouldn’t, because they both knew what Yuki was here for. Kyo grinned and repeated himself, "Yeah, such a pretty girl, aren't you?"

Yuki was trembling, was at a loss of what to say, exhilaration zipping through him with the praise that he’d been craving for. And Kyo continued on, bold as ever even as he whispered, "Part yourself open and show me your pussy, huh?"

Yuki gasped involuntarily, thoughts screeching to a brief halt before rushing into an incoherent, panicked mess. Oh. Okay, so -- so they were ratcheting things up, were they? It was as if the past hour of sweetness had evaporated, and all that was left was the way Yuki’s hole was wet with lube and stretched open, ready for a cock. Kyo’s cock.

Something in him wanted to resist, to challenge Kyo’s bossy order and the fact that he’d called Yuki’s asshole a -- well, what he’d called it. But there was something else in him as well that shivered in delight as he reached down to hold himself open as he was told. There was something calming, about relinquishing control, about letting Kyo bulldoze over his doubts, his confusion, the humiliation. Because there was always humiliation in these urges of his, even the mundane ones of wanting what Ritsu was offering every time they gave him Kagura’s hand-me-downs. It was constant and normal, the humiliation swirling together with the chased bliss of, _I like this, I want this, this feels good to daydream about_. Right now, Kyo was cutting through the negative so all that was left was the positive.

Strangely, Yuki was suddenly reminded of how once, and only once, Shigure had mentioned something about knowing Yuki’s private heart. Considering Ayame and, again, how he probably thought Yuki was gay -- a sentiment he’d definitely share with his closest childhood friends -- that wasn’t surprising. And Shigure herself was hyper-observant as well, so there was that to contend with.

Whatever the case was, once Shigure had stared long and hard at Yuki, and then said in that forever teasing tone of hers, manipulative yet charismatic levity personified, “You might want to start working yourself out and externalizing things, before it all blows up in your face.”

Yuki’s heart had stalled. He’d felt cold all over, staring into Shigure’s knowing, sharp eyes and feeling trapped by the start of this conversation. But then Hatori had thankfully come to the rescue, with her dry tone and aloof manner.

“Right, says the woman hate-fucking Kureno,” Hatori had said, completely redirecting the conversation in a single blow.

With Shigure dramatically acting wounded, and Ayame shrieking, “_What!_ Since _when?”_ Yuki had been able to slip out of the room in the chaos that followed. He’d noticed Hatori’s meaningful glance towards him as he left, and had taken it as proof that she probably knew his private heart, too.

But now, right now, feeling the highs of this high, able to dismiss the low of his lows, Yuki wondered if maybe, just maybe Shigure was right. Maybe he did need to work this all out and find someone to talk to before it started blowing up in his face. Which maybe looked a lot like Yuki going to hotel rooms to have sex with pretty strangers. So, maybe too late.

Maybe, Yuki thought, gripping an asscheek in each hand and holding his breath as Kyo slicked up his cock with lube, took careful aim, and grinded up against his hole -- maybe this _was_ all going to blow up in his face. At least, Yuki decided, he'd get someone to blow a load in him first.

...Alright, gross. The back of his mind and forefront of his mind could agree that now he was just being nasty. Grimacing at his own thoughts in disgust, Yuki focused on watching Kyo’s technique instead; at Kyo gripping himself at the base of his cock to rub the length of himself against Yuki's entrance, smearing the lube messily all over.

"There's your pussy," Kyo said crudely, because Yuki wasn’t alone in being disgusting here, and that made it easier to partake in it. "There she is, all shiny and ripe for me."

"Don’t be disgusting," Yuki whispered harshly, because weren’t they both just awful? But his hole clenched and throbbed at the filthy words, his body heating up with them. He liked this. Deep down -- no, right at the surface, he liked this. He wore it on his sleeve, how disgusting he was. It was something he needed to learn to bury deeper, deeper into a corner of his heart and soul that no one else would be able to see. But right now, he could just be. Just let himself be.

“Gonna let me in?" Kyo whispered back, already slowly starting to press in with the very tip, blunt head spearing into Yuki and making him groan and shift his hips. “Got room for me inside, pretty girl?”

“Fuck,” Yuki hissed out, more turned on than ever before, revolted with himself for being so. But the lust and enjoyment was louder and more pressing in even the forefront of his mind. He was squirming on some stranger's dick, letting himself be called all kinds of lewd things. This was bad. This was dangerous. This was something he could accidentally get addicted to. "_Fuck_."

Kyo groaned a little, pushing further inside, breaching into Yuki. "God, you feel good. You've _been_ good, showing me your pussy, all pink and wet for me."

“Shut up," Yuki panted out, legs falling more and more open as Kyo inched in little by little, all the way up to the hilt. He couldn’t think, but the words spilled out anyway. "Fuck you, shut up, shut up -- "

Kyo, heaving for breath, suddenly stilled, motionless as he simply sat in Yuki, keeping him filled up. Yuki felt as though Kyo's cock was heavy and impossibly large in him, though he knew that couldn’t be true. "Do you really mean that, pretty girl?" Kyo whispered out, eyes searching Yuki’s, like they weren’t mid fuck. Yuki thought it was a power play, and he didn’t mind it, but didn’t know how to lob it back. He waited for the other shoe to drop, for Kyo to say something cutting or cruel or maybe he’d return to being sweet and soft, which was cruel in its own way.

But there was a long pause, as though Kyo was waiting too -- and he was, Yuki realized. He was waiting for Yuki to tell him it was okay. He was checking that Yuki didn’t mean the things he was saying, the false anger he was wearing like an armor to protect himself from the things he wanted Kyo to say, but shouldn’t want to hear at all.

"No, I -- it's good," Yuki whispered out, feeling more control slip out of his reach. Because it was good, rim feeling stretched wide open around Kyo’s dick, hearing Kyo tell him -- tell him he had a _pussy_ and that it was -- " ‘s pretty?" Yuki barely got out, blushing, feeling humiliated -- but needing to know. Absolutely needing to.

Kyo leaned in and nipped at Yuki's collarbone, still affectionate in that quiet way of his. "What, you?"

Yuki moved his hips slightly in need, and sucked in a quick breath at the sensation of Kyo prodding a gentle thrust up into him. "Ah -- ! N-no, my -- my -- " He couldn't say it out loud, and that made Yuki blush all the more.

Kyo seemed to realize what was going on. He burrowed his face into the dip of Yuki’s shoulder, breath humid against his skin. "Hell yeah, your pussy is the prettiest thing I've ever fucking seen, Yuki. And it feels amazing around me, all tight and hot."

"It's -- I’ve never -- " Yuki moaned faintly as Kyo stuttered in another little thrust, nose buried in the crook of Yuki's neck.

"Shh, shh, I know, you’re a virgin. I got it, I'll fuck you good, don't worry," Kyo mumbled, sitting up, pulling away from Yuki so he could have more control over what he was doing. And then he put careful hands on Yuki's narrow hips and started to work his way out.

Yuki felt his asshole spasm and they both let out cries at that. "_Fuck_," Yuki said, a broken record, writhing under Kyo's broad hands. Kyo regained composure sooner, continuing to pull out with a hiss.

"Pretty fucking pussy, _god_," Kyo mumbled, staring down at where they were still connected, Kyo back to being tip-only in Yuki. And before Yuki could think to be embarrassed about Kyo staring at his slicked up hole where it was still stretched around Kyo's girth, Kyo fucked hard into him, earning a wail from Yuki.

Kyo felt huger still, re-entering with all that force -- but Yuki wanted it rough. "Again, again," he urged, panting, trying to spread his legs more. He had a fleeting thought, of his legs over Kyo's shoulders, of Kyo bending him completely in half and fucking him, railing him, straight through the bed, but for now he couldn't bear for Kyo to stop moving to get them in positon. Or maybe he wasn't ready for all that, but Kyo was good enough, obedient enough, to quickly set up rhythmic thrusting, only pulling back out part way to thrust back in as deep as he could. There was only the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and their harsh gasping breathing.

Yuki was hard, cock jutting up and jiggling with each of Kyo's thrust. And maybe, usually, he'd be -- feeling weird about that, about his dick being so prominent, especially while Kyo was indulging him and calling his asshole -- what he was. But Kyo was watching the slide of his own cock into the heat of Yuki, and made no mention of where Yuki's arousal was most obvious. And Yuki -- he could feel the orgasm building, his balls drawing up slowly, his erection stiffening impossibly, angry red and hard.

"Gonna come, pretty girl?" Kyo grunted out, fingers a death grip on Yuki's waist. Yuki was going to have bruises. "I see your fat clit all stiff for me, gonna squirt for me?"

Yuki's breath caught in his throat and his heart immediately was beating so hard and fast that he went light headed, climax exploding out of him out of nowhere. Yuki came so hard his vision whited out, but he heard the broken whine he involuntarily made, needy and loud and high pitched. Kyo was cursing, was fuckiing into him rougher and more desperately than ever, and soon after Yuki felt the wetness of him coming inside. It had Yuki’s asshole gripping more tightly at Kyo's cock, making Yuki shiver.

And then the world fell silent. Yuki had come, he felt fucking _good_ for once, and the world fell silent.

* * *

Yuki felt boneless afterward, sprawled out in the hotel bed and blearily watching Kyo clean up both of them. Yuki couldn't be persuaded to shower yet, but ten minutes ago he watched limply as Kyo wiped him down with a warm, damp washcloth before heading off to shower himself. Now, Kyo was pulling his underwear back on, tan skin glistening under the hotel lights, still shimmering with droplets of water from his shower.

Yuki felt at peace. Like, for once, the world was quiet. He sank deeper into the mattress and sighed in content to himself, smelling of sweat and sex and feeling more inner peace than he had in months.

Of course, Yuki's life being what it was, it wasn't destined to last long.

"Hey, listen..." Kyo looked sheepish, scratching at the back of his head, standing there in those golden yellow boxer briefs and that lacy little matching bralette. Now, something perceptibly shifted. Yuki stared up at him, gray eyes meeting orange, and suddenly, this wasn't peaceful. It was apprehensive and strange.

Yuki, feeling absurdly lewd at seeing Kyo like this -- nearly naked, in his mix of normal and too-feminine underwear, in this unguarded and non-ruthless, non-commanding body language -- dropped his gaze, avoiding Kyo's eyes. Instead he focused on the little details of the bralette. It was beautiful, maybe something Ayame would sell at his shop. There was a little pink 'H.T.' embroidered on the left shoulder band, barely visible but with a tiny rice ball and cat head preceding and following the initials. It was clearly intentionally and lovingly hand-sewn on, those initials, added on to what maybe had been a gift.

Pretty, feminine underwear, for someone as boyish and outgoing as Kyo. Something about that image, about that possibility, made something in Yuki's chest seize, envy and bitter jealousy threatening to suffocate him. He averted his eyes to the floor instead.

“Yuki?” Came Kyo’s voice again, sounding careful and concerned.

“Yeah?” Yuki didn't know what to do with this Kyo, this stranger who seemed to care what his microexpressions meant, who sounded abashed. Where was the person who had gently but persistently torn Yuki down, letting him be as debased as he truly was at his core, making him face his own filth and sin before trying to go back to pretending to be a decent human?

(Not that he was one -- no, he was just a disgusting awful person trying to play off that he was well-mannered and respectable and even slightly capable of being the person his family expected him to be.)

Kyo hesitated at the monosyllabic answer, but recovered quickly. “Uh, listen here's... my number?” Yuki could hear the scratch of paper being slid across the nightstand beside the bed. “Just because, uh, well. I don't know if it's... healthy. That, you know. You... I guess, feel like you should be shamed and all that, for your first time."

Yuki startled and bolted upright, glaring, familiar angry knee jerk reaction taking over. "Is that _judgement?"_ Yuki scoffed this out meanly, defensive and afraid. What if Kyo, who had _partaken_, had broken Yuki down to new depths he hadn't known he'd craved until now, was going to tell him that, _yeah_, you're a freak among freaks. You’re really the worst there is, just like you've been suspecting all this time. Yuki was afraid that was true, and he didn’t want to hear it from Kyo, not now of all times. "If me and my _ass_ remember correctly, you were perfectly fine with it up until now.”

Kyo squinted, like he was struggling to maintain composure. “Okay, chill out, I’m not being judgy, I swear.”

Yuki said nothing. He watched Kyo in suspicion, waiting for whatever else he had to say, because the look on Kyo’s face spoke of internal conflict.

Kyo swallowed deeply and crossed his arms across his chest. The movement drew Yuki’s eyes back to the bralette, and he had to make himself look away again. “Listen, there’s nothing wrong with shame stuff or anything. I just think... Well, I think you originally wanted this to go to a darker place, based on our message conversations and based on how you sort of responded sometimes to everything.”

Yuki thought of himself at his angriest, at his most guarded during, how Kyo had stopped and made him say, _no, it’s good_, made him admit that, _no, I want this_, however briefly. There was truth to what Kyo was saying.

Yuki didn’t want to look back at him though, so he stared down at the bedsheets preserving his modesty.

Kyo sighed softly, maybe at Yuki’s reluctance to engage. He kept talking. “After meeting you in person, and after how this went -- you remind me a little bit of myself when I was younger. Nothing’s wrong with dark sex shit, but you’re new to this. I had good intentions, but other people you hook up with might take advantage of that, if you’re confused. I was confused once. It’s hard. I get that. So, here.” Out the corner of his eye, Yuki watched Kyo slide the paper closer. A drop of water fell from Kyo’s beautiful orange hair, and it left a darkened watermark on the cheap wood of the bedside table.

“Even if we're done here with having sex,” Kyo continued gently, and why was he so gentle and kind to a weird stranger who’d begged him to call him a girl and then got angry about it? Who in the world even _was_ Kyo? “We can talk about your stuff as you try to sort it out.”

Yuki scoffed a little, but it was weak and indecisive. Yuki had no idea how to act in this situation. He’d never had to think about what it might be like, the aftermath of something like this, and he felt woefully unprepared.

“Really, I mean it,” Kyo insisted, sounding sincere, and it made Yuki look at him a little more head on, curious and listening. Kyo’s eyes lit up at the promising progress. “It helps, I promise. I have a good dad, and his boyfriend is younger than him and could relate easier, so that helped too. And _Tohru's_ been -- ”

There was an intimate softness and fondness that slipped into his tone and expression at that name, more private and genuine than anything Yuki had seen from him tonight. It was _too_ private, Yuki thought, watching as Kyo caught himself and cut his words off awkwardly. Kyo cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, I’ve had people,” Kyo summed up gruffly. “So I'll try to be your people too, if you don't have any.”

And -- what a thought. What a sentiment. Did Yuki have ‘people’? He thought about Ritsu, trying to help him but barely having it in them to deal with how the family always treated _them_. About Ayame being loud and strong-headed and unfazed by the judgement definitely cast his way, by their mother especially, and how that made him too unrelatable for Yuki to fathom truly confiding in him, though not for Ayame’s lack of trying. About Akito, and about his mother, and about the suffocation of his everyday life. He thought about Shigure looking straight through him with her sharp, knowing eyes and offering advice that cut to the quick of him before Yuki knew what to do with that sort of thing -- and then Hatori graciously giving him an out.

And here was Kyo, offering a hand. Offering kind words, sincere eyes, and a possibility of momentary peace. There was something here, wasn’t there? There could be.

“...Okay,” Yuki said quietly, and he noticed Kyo smiled in relief as Yuki reached for the paper with quivering fingers.


End file.
